Gone With the Wind
"What has that to do with it?"
"You like dogs, don't you, Scarlett? Do you prefer them in kennels or mangers?"
The allusion was lost on her as the tide of her anger and disappointment rose.
He got lightly to his feet and coming to her put his hand under her chin and jerked her face up to his.
"What a child you are! You have lived with three men and still know nothing of men's natures. You seem to think they are like old ladies past the change of life."
He pinched her chin playfully and his hand dropped away from her. One black eyebrow went up as he bent a cool long look on her.
"Scarlett, understand this. If you and your bed still held any charms for me, no looks and no entreaties could keep me away. And I would have no sense of shame for anything I did, for I made a bargain with you -- a bargain which I have kept and you are now breaking. Keep your chaste bed, my dear."
"Do you mean to tell me," cried Scarlett indignantly, "that you don't care --"
"You have tired of me, haven't you? Well, men tire more easily than women. Keep your sanctity, Scarlett. It will work no hardship on me. It doesn't matter," he shrugged and grinned. "Fortunately the world is full of beds--and most of the beds are full of women."
"You mean you'd actually be so --"
"My dear innocent! But, of course. It's a wonder I haven't strayed long ere this. I never held fidelity to be a virtue."
"I shall lock my door every night!"
"Why bother? If I wanted you, no lock would keep me out."
He turned, as though the subject were closed, and left the room. Scarlett heard him going back to the nursery where he was welcomed by the children. She sat down abruptly. She had had her way. This was what she wanted and Ashley wanted. But it was not making her happy. Her vanity was sore and she was mortified at the thought that Rhett had taken it all so lightly, that he didn't want her, that he put her on the level of other women in other beds.
She wished she could think of some delicate way to tell Ashley that she and Rhett were no longer actually man and wife. But she knew now she could not. It all seemed a terrible mess now and she half heartedly wished she had said nothing about it. She would miss the long amusing conversations in bed with Rhett when the ember of his cigar glowed in the dark. She would miss the comfort of his arms when she woke terrified from the dreams that she was running through cold mist.
Suddenly she felt very unhappy and leaning her head on the arm of the chair, she cried.
CHAPTER LII
ONE RAINY AFTERNOON when Bonnie was barely past her first birthday, Wade moped about the sitting room, occasionally going to the window and flattening his nose on the dripping pane. He was a slender, weedy boy, small for his eight years, quiet almost to shyness, never speaking unless spoken to. He was bored and obviously at loss for entertainment, for Ella was busy in the corner with her dolls, Scarlett was at her secretary muttering to herself as she added a long column of figures, and Rhett was lying on the floor, swinging his watch by its chain, just out of Bonnie's reach.
After Wade had picked up several books and let them drop with bangs and sighed deeply, Scarlett turned to him in irritation.
"Heavens, Wade! Run out and play."
"I can't. It's raining."
"Is it? I hadn't noticed. Well, do something. You make me nervous, fidgeting about. Go tell Pork to hitch up the carriage and take you over to play with Beau."
"He isn't home," sighed Wade. "He's at Raoul Picard's birthday party."
Raoul was the small son of Maybelle and Rene Picard -- a detestable little brat, Scarlett thought, more like an ape than a child.
"Well, you can go to see anyone you want to. Run tell Pork."
"Nobody's at home," answered Wade. "Everybody's at the party."
The unspoken words "everybody -- but me" hung in the air; but Scarlett, her mind on her account books, paid no heed.
Rhett raised himself to a sitting posture and said: "Why aren't you at the party too, son?"
Wade edged closer to him, scuffing one foot and looking unhappy.
"I wasn't invited, sir."